


Inexperienced

by PromisesArePieCrust



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, pff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 01:05:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8230928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PromisesArePieCrust/pseuds/PromisesArePieCrust
Summary: Phryne and Jack pretend they are virgins.





	

She has spoken, her voice a little unsteady as she made her request. She trusts Jack not to make her feel silly or small, and, if he is surprised by her request, he is hiding it well, she thinks.

He considers her carefully, looking sideways at her stockinged legs dangling from the edge of the bed, deciding how to proceed. “And am I... also inexperienced?” he asks her, not smiling, intrigued. His bent finger reaches toward her knee, barely touching it with the tip of his knuckle.

She thinks for a moment. “ _That_ is to your discretion,” she smiles, tentatively reaching toward him, her hand finally brushing and holding his. She gives a small, slightly-bashful shrug of her shoulders. 

She can see which scenario he has chosen as his gaze shifts from calm and worldly-wise to open, nearly doe-eyed. She swallows the lump in her throat. 

She pivots slowly to face him, watching his eyes, moving one leg to rest on his lap and the other behind his back. She can see that he is thinking. He wraps his fingers around her foot, gently pressing his thumb into her arch, and she closes her eyes and smiles, humming at the sensation. 

Jack considers her request some more, taking his time. The image of her in the flowered bonnet during the Gilbert and Sullivan rehearsal comes to mind. He remembered then how charmingly incongruous her sly eyes and smile seemed in the maiden's bonnet. He suspects that she has never been an ingenue, even when she was an ingenue, and the thought makes him smile. 

He loves her. It has been implied, never said, but he knows he does. He loves her cunning and her worldliness, loves her openness and eagerness. When he acknowledges he wouldn't want those things different, that he wouldn't really want her to be an ingenue, he feels more relaxed about proceeding.

He continues to massage her foot. “Is this our wedding night?” he asks, noticing his heart-rate increase at the question. She opens her eyes and grins at him. “I think, perhaps, an unsanctioned tryst.” Her eyes sparkle as she leans forward. “If our parents find us, there will be trouble,” she warns, looking up at him wide-eyed and biting her lower lip.

He chuckles quietly at this. Always eager for a bit of danger, this woman. “Well, in that case, we should turn out the light and be extremely quiet,” he whispers, leaning forward to switch off the bedside lamp. When he is sitting up again, he brings a hand to her cheek and touches his lips to hers very, very lightly, as though tasting her for the first time, and aware that she is a very potent drink. She hums as he sips at her delicately for a little while longer, creating a thrum of arousal in him that makes him want to launch himself at her, but enjoying the heightened tension from not doing so.

 

The first time the fantasy had crossed her mind, she was annoyed, both at the content and how very stirring she had found it. She and Jack were in the midst of lovemaking then-- as they often had been-- joyfully, expressively-- for the several months since their reunion. The thought kept running through her mind: _a virtuous maiden...new feelings stirred..._ Eventually, grudgingly, she gave over to the fantasy, and was rewarded with a stunning climax.

Afterward, she pushed the thoughts away. It was not a fantasy that had ever occurred to her before, and she thought she might find it insulting if she gave it too much consideration. When she was young, she always figured she would like sex, and, as it turned out, she was right. She hadn't thought of the transition to sexual-with-a-partner as being of exceptionally great consequence. It was exhilarating, to be sure, but it wasn't the fact of her virginity at the time that made it so. She blamed Jack's attentive, gentle lovemaking for even letting such an unexpected fantasy cross her mind, and kissed him especially roughly in retaliation. 

Yet, in the way that things which repel us also compel us, the image of exploring sex for the first time with Jack kept popping up, staying with her for the several weeks Jack was out of town-- and edging her to release for many, many satisfied evenings alone in her bed. 

One thing she does poorly is skirt an issue, so after a glorious, extremely athletic reunion upon his return last week, she decided tonight was the best time to bring it up. Judging by how things were going so far, she feels she made the right choice. 

 

They lie down, and he begins inching his palm up her stocking as they kiss. He swallows and tries to calm himself as he reaches the top of the stocking, pulling away from her to look at her face in the dim light. She touches his face, holding his gaze. 

He hasn't even kissed her with his tongue yet, and she is very aware of the warm pool waiting for them between her legs. He resumes his place at the top of her stocking, his breath catching at the feel of the smooth skin at her thigh, and she moans. “Shhh,” he whispers, “someone will hear us.” She closes her mouth and buries her face in his chest, then nods that he's right, they need to keep quiet, and with over-eager hands, she begins to loosen his tie, working ineffectually at the buttons near it. “It's okay, we have all night, we just have to be quiet,” he says, stilling her shaking hands from his buttons and sounding believably nervous. She looks up at him and smiles, thinking he is _very_ good at this. And, her smile changing to an innocent pout, she resolves that she could be very good at this, too.

“I didn't mean to get carried away, it's all just very exciting. I didn't mean to rush you,” she speaks breathily into his ear and moves her mouth along the shell of his ear, eliciting a groan and a small involuntary rut. She sits up and encourages him to sit up too. “We can move more slowly,” she says softly, settling onto his lap and kissing him lightly. She snakes one hand around around his neck and opens her lips slightly as they kiss, gently prying his lips open then experimentally sliding the tip of her tongue shallowly into his mouth. He responds with a soft, low animal noise and sweeps his hand up her spine, pulling her further into him and meeting the tip of her tongue with a slow slide of his own, soon filling her mouth and moaning at the feeling. She pulls back and to his real surprise, giggles. “Shhh,” she admonishes, “now _you're_ getting too loud,” she says, loosening his tie the rest of the way and sliding his jacket and waistcoat off. 

She bites her lip, imagining and really feeling as though she is seeing him for the first time in shirt sleeves with no tie, touching his biceps and shoulders with very earnest admiration. He responds to this admiration with a smile and a slow slide of his hand to her breast. As his thumb hesitantly sweeps over her nipple, they both inhale sharply.

Her actual first time was like a frantic, thrashing dive into cold water, she thinks as she undoes his shirt buttons. This, on the other hand, is like a slow sink into a hot bath. She kisses the bare shoulder she has just revealed, letting her mouth linger there, smelling him.

He brings her head back to his and kisses her with more energy, untucking her blouse from her skirt and sliding his hand underneath. The feeling of his hands, warm on the bare skin of her back, has never been so intense, and she nearly cries, kissing him deeper.

Things begin to move more quickly, garments unfastened, sliding to the floor. Soon they are naked, kissing on top of the blankets, and she begins to shiver. He pulls back the blankets and they slide underneath, holding each other and kissing. 

“I don't want to get you in trouble,” he whispers.

“You won't, no one will come looking--”

“I mean...” He brushes her low abdomen with his palm. She smiles as she understands his meaning, again impressed by his level of dedication to the scenario.

“Are your intentions honourable?” she asks slowly and believably seriously. 

“Completely,” he responds, equally seriously.

She places a hand on his chest. “I believe you,” she says, then kisses him, her posture receptive and welcoming, her muscles loose. She lies down and looks up and him expectantly. When he doesn't move, she reaches out to touch his cock with the back of her fingers. His eyes close and he hangs his head, collecting himself. He lowers his body to lie against her, the angle too difficult for her to maintain contact with his cock with her hand, so she moves, grasping his hips, sliding his erection over her mons and through her labia, sharing her wetness with him. They sigh. 

“You're sure, Phryne?” he asks groggily. 

“I am. Are you?” 

He nods slowly, lips slightly apart, eyes wide. She kisses him as she positions his cock, nudging it into her shallowly. More sighs as they get used to the new sensations, as he pops in and out, neither completely joined nor completely apart, a grey area of wild, humming potential. She feels like she might actually faint.

Gradually, he sinks further into her, and she gently undulates her hips up to meet him. Her hearing and vision have gone a little fuzzy, but her skin and sense of smell have become very acute, as she clutches him as close to her as possible.

“God, I want you, Phryne,” he half-cries, half-groans, his frenzied breath making his words difficult, “I want to marry you,” he manages as he finally fully thrusts.

“Jack, yes, marry me,” she pants, holding him tighter still, moving against him in a barely-controlled thrash.

Neither is entirely sure if question or answer is part of the game, but neither is in a position to be worried at the moment.

She presses her nose frantically against the side of his face, breathing him in as her climax closes in on her; she moans as the wild current flowing through her makes her body shake. Through her haze she hears him cry out too, and she peppers him with small kisses as he finishes.

Slowly they separate and lie still, breathing heavily. 

Several minutes go by. 

“I'm just going to...” she points to the bathroom door across the room, and he nods. 

She takes her time in the bathroom, pacing a little, straightening her hair, looking at her self in the sink mirror. So much for innocuous role play, she thinks.

As she returns, he stands to meet her midway across the floor. They speak over each other. “That wasn't--” “I didn't mean--” “Not that it wouldn't--” “No, of course, I understand--” They smile sheepishly and breathe easier, settling back into the bed. 

They lie facing the ceiling, each lost in his or her own thoughts, each filled half with relief and half with disappointment.

“I do… I do love you, Phryne,” he says finally, warmly, into the darkness.

“That's…,” she breathes, “that's good.”

There is a space of some minutes. He is almost asleep when she slides on top of him and nestles her face into his neck, then puts her mouth to his ear, whispering “Me too. I love you, too.” 

He brings his arms around her torso to squeeze her once, tightly, acknowledging that he'd heard her. 

She slides back down off of him, takes his hand, brings it to her lips, and sleeps peacefully.


End file.
